


The (teenage) Magician King

by coldfiredragon



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Arranged Marriage, Background Poly, Canon Gay Character, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Infertility, M/M, Masturbation, Miscarriage, Sex Toys, The tags will make it sound worse than it is, Tick Pickwick is a bastard, almost all the squicky themes are references to the past, but he suffers for it., teenage High King Eliot, the kids are not alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: Months after killing Logan Kinnear a portal opened in Eliot Waugh's bedroom mirror. Stepping through it was the worst decision he'd ever made.  One he still regrets years later as he chaffs under the restrictions of being High King while trapped in an increasingly unhappy marriage.





	The (teenage) Magician King

**Author's Note:**

> The tags make it worse than it seems. This takes place when Eliot is older, and referencing his past trauma to inform his present. That said, I could easily do more of this. That depends on how much interest it recieves. If you like it, tell me you want more.

One of the things that Eliot missed most about Earth was technology. Even in rural Indiana, he'd been as glued to his cellphone just like any other kid his age, perhaps more. It had been his escape -- a window into a world that was larger than the bigoted backwardness of Whitehall Indiana. It had given him hope; it had made him a promise. There was a broader, richer world waiting for him if he could just survive long enough – if Logan Kinnear or his father didn't kill him first. 

Eliot shivered as he touched himself. Maybe dying would have been better. A short life certainly would have been less frustrating than the one he'd found himself forced into when his bedroom mirror had opened into a portal and curiosity had gotten the better of him. It had been only a handful of weeks following the manifestation of his powers and Logan's death. He'd wanted so desperately to escape to... somewhere – anywhere. He'd never dreamed it would be this, that something like Fillory was real. 

His head dropped, and he tried to clear his mind as he focused his telekinesis on the toy that moved inside him. The surface of the dildo was glassy smooth in texture, crafted from a polished Fillorian stone, but it had no flex or bend. His fist balled against the silk sheets below him and he spread his knees a little farther apart as he jacked himself off with one hand and bucked his hips back into the toy. Soft black curls were matted to his forehead, and sweat stung his eyes when he hung his head. As he chased his climax, Eliot imagined what it would be like to have someone else in bed with him. One of the castle guardsmen, anyone really, as long as it was another man. He'd never gotten to feel what it would be like to have a partner fucking him, to buck his hips and feel them impact against a body instead of empty air, to be surrounded by their warmth as big hands held his hips.

He really wished he'd watched more porn when he'd still had access to the internet. The few videos he'd dared to watch had imprinted on his impressional teenage brain, and he'd known beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted another boy in his bed far more than some girl. Eliot remembered lying under the covers with his phone's sound off, terrified his dad would somehow find out 

Salt stung his eyes again, but this time Eliot wasn't sure if it was tears or sweat. There were moments that he just wanted to go home, back to the farmhouse, to his mom and brothers. He hated Fillory, hated it with all his soul. He'd give anything to leave, to not be bound to it for the rest of his life, to not be its king. A breath shuddered out of his lungs, and he tried to swing his mind back on track before he went soft. In his mind's eye, Eliot attempted to picture the newest member of his guard, tall and blond with a broad chest and big hands, what was his name? Beksan? Eliot moaned softly and silently formed the syllables with his mouth, imagined crying out the man's name as he got closer and closer to climaxing. 

“Shit, just a little more!” The words escaped as a whine, and he angled the dildo so it would rub against his prostate with each thrust. His body clenched around the toy as semen spurted across his hand and the sheets below him. With a whimper, he collapsed onto the bed, then rolled into a ball to avoid the wet spot. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he curled tighter. He hated Fillory for everything it had taken from him, for all the hopes and dreams it had stripped away, for everything it had forced on him. Eliot dug his thumb into the palm and traced it along the scar that split the middle of his hand. His first days in Fillory had been almost dreamlike, because how could he have believed they were anything less than that? Escaping to some magical fantasy realm only happened in books. His thumb pressed harder near the center of the scar as he thought about the sting of the knife as it had sliced through his flesh and marked him as it would mark no one else. 

The lamps that lit his suite had already been turned low, but he used his powers to darken the space further until it was mostly lit by the double moons that hung in the sky. With a soft groan, he flexed his hands and tutted to clear away the mess. Thinking about the day he'd been marked as High King wouldn't cheer him up. He was almost asleep when the door of his suite opened enough for someone to slip inside. Familiarity stopped him from stiffening in fear, but he lay tense for another reason as Fen crossed the bedroom. Without speaking, he rubbed fingers at the salt tracks that lingered near his eyes and down his face. 

“Eliot? Can I, can we?” Eliot felt the bed dip as she moved to rest her knee on the mattress. Her hand brushed his shoulder, then down his side, intimate in a way he'd disliked from the earliest days of their marriage. He swallowed as she lifted the blankets to press herself against him. 

“Fen...” His tone was almost pleading, but as gentle and as patient as he could manage, considering how raw he felt right now. 

“We can try again!” There was an edge to her voice, desperation, that made him cringe on the inside. “I know the healers are wrong, the centaurs too. We just have to keep trying. I want to keep trying.” 

“Fen,” Eliot repeated her name with more patience than he'd thought himself capable of mustering. He did care about her because her life had been ruined as thoroughly, perhaps more so, by their marriage than his own had been. Eliot's eyes slipped closed as he fought a fresh wave of tears. It had happened so quickly. He'd only been king a handful of months; then his tutor had found out he was researching how to portal back to Earth. Within days of the discovery, Tick had brought Fen to Whitespire and introduced her as his betrothed. The wedding had taken place despite his protests, and he'd only learned afterward that the ceremony had bound him to Fillory forever. 

The mix of terror and fury he'd felt when Tick had told him had been enough to send the man sailing full force into the closest wall. There had been something intoxicating in seeing fear fill Tick's face as he'd realized that Eliot was more an easily manipulated child. To see someone frightened of him, instead of being the one afraid, had made him feel powerful for the first time in his life. Eliot had been ready to kill him, he could have snapped Tick's neck as easily as he breathed, but he hadn't wanted to be that person. Logan had broken him, but Logan had been an accident. He'd had the guards dump Tick in the dungeon; then he'd left him there for three days before settling on banishing him. The smell of sizzling flesh when Tick's arms had been branded still haunted his dreams. 

Rafe and Abigail had become his chief counsel in Tick's stead, which had worked well for the most part. The pair were quick studies who had learned to tread delicately around certain subjects. Having Abigail whispering in one ear had made him a favorite among Fillory's talking animals, which was probably the best alliance he could ask for because there was a hell of a lot more of them than there were humans. 

“El, please.” His wife's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Her hand pressed at his shoulder, insistent and just shy of forceful as she urged him from his side onto his back. Her leg swung over his hips, but Eliot pressed a hand to her chest before she could lean down to kiss him. 

“No.” 

“El...” In the dim light, her eyes were pleading. Eliot dropped his hands to the sheets, used them to lever himself up to sit, then fluffed the pillows with his powers, so they were wedged between his back and the headboard. 

“They aren't lying to you, Fen.” These were words ones he'd repeated ad nauseam over the last few months. Eliot knew she was in denial, but he hadn't been able to make the truth stick. He was a little afraid. Desperate hope was one thing, but he had no idea how Fen would cope when grief eventually took her heart. She lurched forward in an attempt to kiss him again, and Eliot planted his hands against her shoulders. “No means no!” He growled with a little more force than he'd intended. 

“We can still have a baby, Eliot.” The calm irrational insistence chipped away at Eliot's control. Off to the sides, shrouded in shadows, small objects rattled. He didn't want kids. Ever. When the centaurs had confirmed what the Whitespire healers had already told them the relief had taken his breath away. 

“I'm sorry, Fen. Truly.” 

“They're wrong!” His wife's voice was shrill. “You're a magician. You can fix me. I know you can!”

“No, I can't.” It was one of the first lessons his tutors had taught him. There were certain things magic couldn't change, so many illnesses it couldn't alter, trying would burn him out, not that this was something he wanted to try and fix in the first place. He pursed his lips, then decided that bluntness was the best option. “Fen, sweetheart, you're barren. You have to accept it.” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, and Eliot gripped her face to wipe them away with his thumbs. “We are never having children. I know you feel guilty, but it's not your fault. It's not your fault.” 

“You keep saying that, but it is! It has to be! I'm not... a good wife... if I can't...” Her voice trailed off. Eliot had heard this argument so many times, of how the guilt lay solely on her shoulders. 

“It's not your fault.” The whispered the words a third time with absolute certainty. It wasn't Fen's fault, because it was his. The truth of it was as clear to him as the moment he'd killed Logan had been. He'd panicked when Fen had swept into their quarters with the bunny announcing her pregnancy. She'd been thrilled, and Eliot – coward that he was, had bolted in terror. He'd hidden in the North tower for hours. He'd cried himself to sleep up there, all the while wishing and hoping that the bunny was wrong, that Fen wasn't actually pregnant – that she would never be pregnant. Eliot had never meant to hurt her but when Fen had miscarried within days of the bunny's announcement he'd known in his gut that all the blame lay with him. He'd done something permanent to her because they'd been trying sporadically for years with no success. 

“You're the only one who believes that,” Fen whispered. 

“I'm High King. Mine is the only opinion that matters.” The ghost of a smile graced her face, but it just as quickly fell away. Eliot pet her hair away from her face. “I don't want to keep trying. Your disappointment when we fail breaks my heart.” In a way, the words weren't a lie. He never wanted kids, but as much as he despised Fillory and his position Fen was probably the closest thing to a friend that he had. His words made her face scrunch in pain. She crawled off of him and lay down with her back to him. 

“You just don't want to have sex because I'm not a man. Just take a husband already.” The words were harsh, thick with pain and bitterness. Fen's rapid shift from sorrow to anger had become something of an acceptable norm in light of the centaur healer's confirmation of her infertility. Eliot gripped the sheet with his fist. He'd made no secret of his preferences, from the earliest days of their marriage he'd made it clear that he liked boys, and he knew he could take a husband. Eliot turned his gaze toward the window and stared at the sliver of the moon he could see. 

He wanted it to be the right man. It was a choice he'd only to allowed to make once. A long sigh escaped him as he slumped against the pillows. The decision was probably going to get taken out of his hands. Rafe had started talking about strategic alliances like he talked about the weather, frequently and without hesitation. He'd gently hinted more than once that Eliot should propose a marriage alliance with Loria, and the annoyance when he hadn't done so when the Lorian and Floater entourages had visited for his eighteenth birthday had been palpable. A shiver cascaded down Eliot's back. He'd managed to table making a commitment on that front for years, but it felt like he was running out of time. Idri had already expressed interest, and the Stone Queen had casually suggested what a cute couple he and Micah would make. Eliot wasn't settled on either of them – not that he had a better option. 

On the other side of the bed, he heard Fen sniffle, and he brought his legs a little tighter against his chest. He lay there, listening for a couple of moments. The right thing to do was roll over and hug her, maybe even suck it up and give her what she wanted, but doing so wouldn't change the truth of things. It wouldn't fix what he'd so carelessly broken. There was no way out of the patterns they'd been trapped in if there were he'd have taken it years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more? Tell me you want more. Feedback will feed this beast. Silence will probably leave it at a one-shot.


End file.
